Hounds of Love
by Strollins-Nation
Summary: Seth Rollins, a man fighting for justice, finds a friendship stronger than blood and the man of his dreams. But none of that is more important than burning TNA to the ground. And he'll watch the treacherous company go up in flames, smothered by their own narcissism, with a smile on his face. featuring Rollins/Callihan, Ambrose/Reigns, Black/A.J. Styles
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE, or own themselves. I still don't own the WWE because I'm not a McMahon, and I'm still sad about this. Warning: the tags will be changed as I actually figure out what I'm doing with this, until then this is all me bullshitting my way with the plot Leave some feedback, please. Thanks for reading. Enjoy? Chapter One: *2010* Tyler knew his time with Ring of Honor was coming to a close. He was sad to see it go, but he knew it was never going to last forever. He just hadn't expected two companies coming at him at once. WWE is, obviously, the biggest and most successful professional wrestling company on Earth. When they first tried to scout him, he had also been talking to Dixie Carter. But Tyler had been ecstatic- he's wanted to work for Vince McMahon since he was a little kid. A total dream come true. He just knew that's who he was signing with. William Regal, the gentleman who had met with Tyler at a cafe in Iowa, explained how it worked down in Florida. He needed to spend some time in developmental. Okay, Tyler could understand that. While Ring of Honor is no small fish, it doesn't compare to the size of WWE. But when Tyler asks exactly how long he'd spend down there before moving to the main roster, Regal said four to six years. That's not.. It seems a little unnecessary. Considering he's been swimming around in the indies since he was sixteen, he's no stranger to the wrestling industry. He can work in any ring - any size or shape - and he does pretty well on the mic. Why would he need so much time to develop? He isn't complaining or anything. He's extremely grateful for the chance.. He voices all of this to Regal. The older man just tilts his head, and says that "none of the work you did before now means anything. It was all worthless, really". Because his countless title reigns apparently don't mean shit if they're "not in a company that matters". Oh hell no. Tyler has worked his fucking ass off to get every belt, try to win every match he's ever been in. He used to drive from Davenport to Chicago and back for four days every week to train with Danny Daniels, working shows in between. All the hard work, blood, and sweat he put in, all the criticism he overcame, all the abuse his body absorbed. It all meant nothing? Eric Bishoff told him a few weeks ago during his meeting with Dixie that the WWE is full of selfish old men. "Career killers" he called them, because they would take someone's career in their "grubby, dirty hands and squeeze the life out of it. They watch the passion for this industry drain from your eyes with a smile on their face.". Looking at William, his eyes showing how little he truly cares about the man sitting in front of him. About Tyler Black. It made Eric's words seem true. Despite Matt Sydal and some other unimportant sources telling him not to, he tells his family and friends his decision. Two weeks later, Tyler is writing his signature on the bottom of a TNA contract. He knows that Impact isn't the best of places. The people there, as he's heard, are rude assholes who only look out for themselves. There's been more double crosses than there have been Wrestlemania's. Not to mention the people in charge tend to do whatever the fuck they want with whoever they want, holding little disregard for anyone without a belt because they're not as important. They're offering him a roster spot and a storyline that puts him directly into the title hunt for the X Division Championship, and they're not discouraging everything he's worked for. Eventually, he'll go for the TNA Championship. Dixie already said he can keep his image, or turn heel, and that it was all up to him. Tyler walks out of TNA Headquarters feeling like a fresh, newly energized man. This is the start of his future, and he can't wait to see where he goes. Even if he never makes it to the WWE, he knows he's going to achieve great things. Just try and stop him. ~ William Regal frowns, "No, Tyler Black has no intention of signing with us. Apparently TNA has offered him something better than we did." Jon Moxley bites his lip to contain his disappointment. Sami has been going on and on about this guy for month's now, ever since he announced he wouldn't be resigning with.. uh.. whatever company he worked for. What kind of idiot would go to TNA instead of WWE? "I hope this isn't a deal breaker." The British man says, holding out the pen. Jon snatches the black writing utensil. "Fuck no, just wanted to know if I would have any real competition." This weird thing - like an emotion or some shit - flashes in Regal's eyes, and a small smile stretches his lips. "Good. Please sign here.."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE, TNA, or own themselves. This story is completely fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Sadly. Warning: you know the homophobia in the tags? Yeah. I'd also suggest brushing up on the 2011 TNA roster if you don't know them. The actual champions aren't that important... Here's the next chapter. I hope everyone likes. Sami and Ambreigns will make an appearance here. Chapter Two: *2012* Tyler Black has achieved more than anyone ever thought he would in this industry. He beat Austin Aries at Genesis, January 17th, a month later, for the X Division Championship. They had a feud for the next year, Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin popping in half way through. Tyler's never faced Shelley before, but he's matched up with Sabin and Aries a few times in ROH. At Final Resolution, December of 2010, he finally lost to Aries. God damn dirty mother fucker. Hit him between the legs when the ref's back was turned. Ruined his fourteen months of hard work. But Tyler wasn't going to complain. After all, he had a match against TNA World Heavyweight Champion, A.J. Styles, the following Wednesday. They had a series of matches afterwards, trading wins and losses - sometimes they'd end in DQ, but no one for counted out. They're men, and neither is afraid of the other. Running away isn't an option. By the time Victory Road, March thirteen, 2011, came. Tyler was thirsty for that belt. He wanted it so. Fucking. Bad. He could taste it, the metal, on the tip of his tongue. Tyler wanted to make A.J. Styles bleed all over the ring, and take his title. (While he didn't make Styles bleed, he did take that belt.) Now it's February 21st, and he wants the fuck out. He's noticed that since he became champ, and made his heel turn, everyone has a sour attitude towards him. The other heels had one while he was a face, but now that he's on their side they hate him even more. It's not that Tyler gives a fuck, because he doesn't. Why should he care what other people think of him? He's the fucking man, they don't mean shit to him. He can deal with people sneering at him wherever he goes. What's upsetting him is the homophobic slurs his colleagues say to him whenever he walks by them. But that's okay. He's a grown ass man. He can deal with these assholes. He did. Then in November 201, someone spray painted "cocksucker" on his locker room door. Tyler wasn't bullied in school, or any where else for that matter, so he isn't sure how to approach the matter. Deciding to let it go seems like the best idea. Besides, he has a tag match with Kazarian tonight. There's no time for such petty, immature children's game. Then it happens again, and again, and again. Each time there's a new word, a new insult. Last month, December, someone wrote "sucked Styles for his belt" and drew a picture of a dick on one of Tyler's posters. That's when he decided enough was enough, snapped a picture of the bullshit, and made his way to Dixie's office. The reactions he got were mixed. Eric laughed his ass off, his face going red. Dixie's mouth fell open, and they had the most offensive conversation Tyler's ever had. ("You're a faggot?"Dixie ggasps. Tyler frowns. "I take serious offense to that word. That's why I'm here, actually..." Carter looks at the pictures again. "Did you really suck A.J.'s dick for your championship?" "Excuse me?" "'Cause if you did, kudos because A.J. is hot. But we'd have to take it away because we don't accept that kind of unprofessional life style." "I would never do that." Tyler says, his eyebrows raised. "I'm actually insulted you'd even think that." "I'm insulted you didn't tell me you liked cock." Tyler leaves.) After that bullshit, Tyler decided that since his contract is up in three months, he isn't going to resign. But he doesn't go public, not yet. A few days later, he gets a call from an unknown number. "Hello?" "Yes, hello. Is this Tyler Black?" Tyler smiles. Oh, he knows that voice. "Indeed it is." "Good morning, Mr. Black. This is Paul Heyman." "What do I owe the honor of this phone call, Mr. Heyman?" "I noticed that your contract with TNA will expire in April, and I was.. curious as to whether or not you planned on extending." Biting his lip, the Iowan native says quietly, "No. No I'm not." "That's fantastic!" Paul says, his voice full of excitement. "If you're interested, I have a proposition." Leaning on the hotel counter, Tyler breaths out, "I'm all ears." He made the worst mistake of his life by signing with TNA. Bunch of dirty ass, underhanded fucks. But now, he's going to make it all better. (Today, he's heading down to Florida.) ~ *next day* Dean sighs, allowing Sami to pull him into the NXT arena. Roman tags along, an amused spark in his gorgeous eyes. Sami babbles excitedly, practically skipping. All these damn emotions. Finally - finally - they stop not far from the ring. Dean turns to his friend. "Can you tell why you're so fucking happy?" Ambrose asks. Sami bounces up and down. "No, it's a surprise." Roman smirks. "We gotta be here to meet Heyman and our new partner anyways, babe." The brunette growls. "I hate that slimy fuck." "He's our ticket to the WWE, you better play nice." Dean waves his hand as if it didn't matter. He knows it does. Dean needs his job, needs to be a wrestler. He fucked it up with Regal, and he wants to make it right. If that means being nice to Paul Heyman, well.. Sami grabs his arms - tight - and gasps. Dean tries to pry his fingers away. "Dude,what the fuck?!" "Jimmy wasn't lyin', man!" "About what?!" Callihan nods. "Tyler fuckin' Black, that's what." Roman raises his an eyebrow. "Who?" The short man's mouth falls open. "The greatest indy wrestler on the planet!" Dean scrunches his nose. "What's with you and this guy? Got a crush on 'im?" Sami doesnt get a chance to respond because a weasel approaches them, a smirk (that Dean wants to punch off his face) on his face. "Dean, Roman, Mr. Callihan. Great to see you this morning." "You, too, Paul." Roman says with a smile. "We're really excited to meet our third member." "Of course! Let me go get him." Sami pouts, clearly disappointed that he can't see that guy. "Dean, I-" "Gentleman, your new partner. TNA World Heavyweight Champion, Tyler Black."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE, or own themselves. I still don't own the WWE because I'm not a McMahon, and I'm still sad about this. Warning: the tags will be changed as I actually figure out what I'm doing with this, until then this is all me bullshitting my way with the plot Leave some feedback, please. Thanks for reading. Enjoy? Chapter One: *2010* Tyler knew his time with Ring of Honor was coming to a close. He was sad to see it go, but he knew it was never going to last forever. He just hadn't expected two companies coming at him at once. WWE is, obviously, the biggest and most successful professional wrestling company on Earth. When they first tried to scout him, he had also been talking to Dixie Carter. But Tyler had been ecstatic- he's wanted to work for Vince McMahon since he was a little kid. A total dream come true. He just knew that's who he was signing with. William Regal, the gentleman who had met with Tyler at a cafe in Iowa, explained how it worked down in Florida. He needed to spend some time in developmental. Okay, Tyler could understand that. While Ring of Honor is no small fish, it doesn't compare to the size of WWE. But when Tyler asks exactly how long he'd spend down there before moving to the main roster, Regal said four to six years. That's not.. It seems a little unnecessary. Considering he's been swimming around in the indies since he was sixteen, he's no stranger to the wrestling industry. He can work in any ring - any size or shape - and he does pretty well on the mic. Why would he need so much time to develop? He isn't complaining or anything. He's extremely grateful for the chance.. He voices all of this to Regal. The older man just tilts his head, and says that "none of the work you did before now means anything. It was all worthless, really". Because his countless title reigns apparently don't mean shit if they're "not in a company that matters". Oh hell no. Tyler has worked his fucking ass off to get every belt, try to win every match he's ever been in. He used to drive from Davenport to Chicago and back for four days every week to train with Danny Daniels, working shows in between. All the hard work, blood, and sweat he put in, all the criticism he overcame, all the abuse his body absorbed. It all meant nothing? Eric Bishoff told him a few weeks ago during his meeting with Dixie that the WWE is full of selfish old men. "Career killers" he called them, because they would take someone's career in their "grubby, dirty hands and squeeze the life out of it. They watch the passion for this industry drain from your eyes with a smile on their face.". Looking at William, his eyes showing how little he truly cares about the man sitting in front of him. About Tyler Black. It made Eric's words seem true. Despite Matt Sydal and some other unimportant sources telling him not to, he tells his family and friends his decision. Two weeks later, Tyler is writing his signature on the bottom of a TNA contract. He knows that Impact isn't the best of places. The people there, as he's heard, are rude assholes who only look out for themselves. There's been more double crosses than there have been Wrestlemania's. Not to mention the people in charge tend to do whatever the fuck they want with whoever they want, holding little disregard for anyone without a belt because they're not as important. They're offering him a roster spot and a storyline that puts him directly into the title hunt for the X Division Championship, and they're not discouraging everything he's worked for. Eventually, he'll go for the TNA Championship. Dixie already said he can keep his image, or turn heel, and that it was all up to him. Tyler walks out of TNA Headquarters feeling like a fresh, newly energized man. This is the start of his future, and he can't wait to see where he goes. Even if he never makes it to the WWE, he knows he's going to achieve great things. Just try and stop him. ~ William Regal frowns, "No, Tyler Black has no intention of signing with us. Apparently TNA has offered him something better than we did." Jon Moxley bites his lip to contain his disappointment. Sami has been going on and on about this guy for month's now, ever since he announced he wouldn't be resigning with.. uh.. whatever company he worked for. What kind of idiot would go to TNA instead of WWE? "I hope this isn't a deal breaker." The British man says, holding out the pen. Jon snatches the black writing utensil. "Fuck no, just wanted to know if I would have any real competition." This weird thing - like an emotion or some shit - flashes in Regal's eyes, and a small smile stretches his lips. "Good. Please sign here.."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE, TNA, or own themselves. This story is fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Warning: I attempt to add humor, Rollihan is really cute, and Dean acts like a dick for no reason I hope you're all enjoying this. Please leave some feedback. Chapter Four: There's a difference between wrestling in the indies and wrestling in any sports entertainment company. In the WWE you're given an identity. In the indies, you could be whoever the fuck you wanted to be. If you wanted to be insane, if you wanted to be a goody two shoes, then you were. You designed your own character. You are your character. Your character doesn't have to be you. Dean knows this better than anyone. Jon Moxley wasn't Dean's true self - a lot of what he said was true, but the manner in which he conducted himself wasn't him -. A lot of people think he's truly that pain addicted psycho who stabs people with forks, or got off on making his opponents bleed. (Thinking back on it now, it makes him sick.) It's probably not fair to judge Tyler Black by the character he plays on TV, considering the circumstances. But that doesn't mean he can't do it anyways. "He seems like a dick." Dean says as Sami emerges from the bathroom. He just finished watching Black's promo last week and - wow. This kid's feisty. "Who?" The shorter asks, giving Dean a weird look. Yeah. 'Cause he's the weird one. "Your elementary school crush, fucker." Sami ducts his head to hide his blush, but Dean still sees it. He thinks it's kind of adorable, watching his friend get all flustered and shy just from mentioning the guy's name. He can only imagine what being in the same space would do. Oh, today's gonna be fun. "Why'd you say that? You've never really talked to him." "He just looks like an asshole. The way he talks, the way he walks, how he carries himself.. just screams asshole." "That's not nice, Jonathan. You can't judge people based on their character." "Yeah, Dean-o. Give the guy a chance before you write him off." Roman adds. The brunette narrows his eyes at his boyfriend, "I do what I want." "Obviously." knock knock knock Dean shoves Sami onto the bed when he tries to run to the door in order to answer it. No doubt hoping to see his crush. Ah. Young puppy love. So sweet, cute, and innocent. He remembers when he and Roman first started going out, and when they first met. It was just like this. Swinging open the door, Dean snarls. Tyler is there, as expected. Wearing a green and blank Asking Alexandria muscle tee, a tight pair of black skinny jeans, and green Converse. There's a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his hair, which has been pulled back in a bun. (If Dean wasn't already in a happy relationship with his soul mate, or if his best friend didn't like this guy.. He'd be all over him. He's quite good looking after all.) "Paul said we're supposed to ride together." Tyler says, doing his best to sound polite. Dean sort of wants to punch the niceness off his face, but decides against it. After all, this guy may end up being his best-friend-in-law one day. Starting it off by hitting the guy probably wouldn't be a good way to begin a friendship. Besides, he doesn't even know this douche. Dean's just being a jerk to him because he can, and he needs to be extraordinarily mean to someone for no damn reason. "I know, fuck face. Come inside, but don't put your shit down. We're about to leave." Dean says. Okay. Maybe he's being s little to mean. Tyler nods, smirking a bit. "Yes, sir." He says, giving a two fingered salute. Fucking asshole. Why can't Dean get a reaction out of him?! God damn it. Slick motherfucker. Sami's eyes brighten up - oh god, it's so adorable - and he smiles, all warm and bright and shit. "H-hey, Tyler." Black smiles back, a little thing that lights up his eyes. "Mornin'." Roman comes out of the bathroom, and he nods to the dickwad standing there. Said dickwad looks at him and nods back. The fucker looks back at Sami, who's focused on tying his shoes. He looks interested as fuck. Oh, he's going to have so much fun. "So, Tyler. You got a girlfriend? A boyfriend?" Dean asks, smiling mischievously. Sami looks up, his eyes sparkling with hope, but he quickly looks back down, the tips of his ears red. "Nope. I'm very much single." The black haired man says, his pupils only leaving Callihan for a second. It's. So. Fucking. Cute. "And ready to mingle?" Dean questions, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Roman swats him on the back of the head. "Stop pesterin' the guy. This is why we can't have friends!" "But, babe!" Roman winks discreetly, "How are we ever going to go on a double date if you scare away Sami's boyfriend?" "Roman." Sami squeaks, his head up and cheeks a bright red. The man standing next to him doesn't even look embarrassed, more intrigued than anything. God fucking damn it. This kid's barrier is impenetrable. But Dean won't stop until he's made this asshole squirm! He will not sleep! His entire life will be dedicated to making Tyler Black blush! (Dean realizes he's pathetic.) The Samoan holds up his hands, acting like he's innocent. "Whatever. You ready yet?" Sami, who's still as red as a tomato, stands up and nods, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. Dean watches, in amazement, how Black's eyes never once leave him. Even when Sami looks back at him, he doesn't look away. Sami doesn't either, so they stand there, staring at each other. Neither look like they plan in moving. "If you're done eye fucking each other," Dean says much louder than necessary, causing the New Horror to jump and break eye contact, "Let's go." Sami zooms out of the room, his little legs carrying him as he all but runs away. Dean smirks. This is so fucking great. ~ Sami looks like he's about to murder someone - probably Dean, since his friend is the one who forced him to sit in the back with his crush. It probably wasn't that that pissed him off. It was probably the "couples gotta sit together " comment that made his face turn red (right after it dulled back down) and left him stuttering to come up with a retort. Tyler, on the other hand, doesn't look bothered in the slightest as he gazes out the window. He almost looks pleased. Dean needs to change that. "So, Tyler, where ya from?" "Davenport, Iowa." Tyler answers. Before Dean can even ask, he's answering his next questions. "I have an older brother, Sam, and a younger sister, Elizabeth, who's a model. And yes, she has a boyfriend." What a god damn smart ass. "And, I'm sure you'll ask this eventually, but Jimmy was my best friend. Nothing else, even if he pretends it was. And no, I don't talk to him anymore." "Why's that, asshat?" Tyler shrugs, "He decided pursuing some girl who didn't even want him was more important than our friendship. So I chose to put my career over him. Simple." This kid is way to fucking cocky for his own good. Dean plans on using that against him - one day. Somehow he will. Even if it kills him. "Take it easy, man." Roman whispers from the driver's seat, looking at him for a second before averting his eyes back to the road. Dean rolls his eyes. Fucking mother hen. He doesn't understand Dean Ambrose's life mission, okay? He doesn't get it. Or, he doesn't know about it. But if he did Ro wouldn't comprehend his determination to make this kid as uncomfortable as possible. Just to get a rise it of him, make him stutter. (Maybe he should stop before it gets to out of hand.) "So, what kind of music do you listen to?" Roman asks. Tyler raises his eyebrows, but doesn't hesitate when he answers. "Just some metalcore, alternative, and screamo. Really into L7 and Haste the Day, right now." "I love L7!" Sami says, completely astonished. As if it's impossible for them to have something in common. The black haired man looks at him for the first time in their forty five minute drive - which is a feat in itself, considering he couldn't stop looking at the other in the hotel - a small upturn if his lips. "Really?" The way he says it is.. weird. Weird compared to the smug, overconfident tone he uses when talking to Dean. It's soft, compassionate. As if talking to the other is s blessing he isn't taking lightly. All of this cute, puppy love is making Dean's heart swell to the point of near explosion. He looks over at Roman, thinking back to when they used to dance around each other. Rome had acted all shy and considerate around him, Dean never knew what to say without fear of the other disliking him. Looking back on it, they've really come along way. He hopes Sami and fuck hole can get their shit together and make something beautiful blossom between them. Oh fuck, he's turned into a total sap. ~ Around seven o'clock they pull up into the parking lot of their hotel - room paid for by Paul Heyman himself - and they get inside their room as fast as possible. Roman suggests ordering room service since none of them feel like take out tonight. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go out for a drink." Tyler says, putting his jacket on. "I don't really like hangin' around people that much, and I've already spent six hours with you guys.." "Don't get yourself killed. Paul wouldn't appreciate that." Dean retorts as he saunters into the kitchen to grab himself a small bottle of alcohol from the mini bar. Sami looks like he's about to start pouting, but nods anyways. Roman gives the asshole his number, just in case he needs anything. Apparently jackhole plans on taking a cab so they don't have t worry about their rental. Fucking dickface. Being all considerate of other people's belongings and shit. One day. One day Dean Ambrose will get the best of Tyler Black and his stupid polite/smug attitude. He will expose him for the true asshole he is! Just watch. (Man, he really needs to stop...)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE. TNA, or own themselves. This story is completely fictional, and has never nor will ever happen. Warning: the homophobia has come back to this fic! I wasn't sure if I could go through with this fic. I'm already on chapter five. Holy shit. Chapter Five: If there's anything that anyone knows about Tyler Black is that he doesn't like people. Jimmy Jacobs was his best friend, a man who promised to never fuck him over. Ever since his ''best friend'' mercilessly tore out his heart, violently stomped on it, and threw it and it's owner away like neither if them were worth shit. Well. Surely you can understand why he'd be a bit apprehensive about making allies, about letting himself get to close. Yet here he is, being thrown into a faction with two other guys that he doesn't know. Doesn't want to know. Tyler is a great single performer. He's always felt stronger being alone. He doesn't like relying on other people because their egos get to big and it becomes a battle of who's the best versus who's the weak link. It's never seemed worth it to him. Besides, he can win more gold alone. In the tag division he can only get one belt he has to share. But this is all for a chance to correct the wrong he did by going to TNA. He wants to bury that horrible excuse of a company, and he can't do that without being in the WWE. Besides, Roman's pretty nice. It's Jon Moxley, the fucking lunatic, that's his problem. Tyler doesn't get along with people like him. A selfish asshole who had a tough upbringing, who doesn't give a shit about anyone. He just happened to be one of his partners. However, it's obvious the man has changed. Dean Ambrose seems to be totally different. He's still a fucking hardheaded prick, but he's dating Roman (if calling each other babe and the constant couple reference is anything to go by) and he seems genuinely happy with him. It's sweet, watching the way they look at each other, so filled with love and care. It's as if the man who loved death tournaments or roamed the streets, drunk off his ass and talking to people that didn't exist or about random shit, never existed. Tyler's expecting a dangerous, murderous glint to light up his blue eyes right before he starts stabbing people with forks or some shit. Then there's Sami Callihan. A wild card, really. Tyler knew who he was the moment he was him. He was, of course, a big fan of the Switchblade Conspiracy back in the day. Sami's and Moxley's microphone skills had been second to none individually, and only improved as they combined their skills. Then there was their in-ring abilities that made them stand out. Callihan wasn't a big guy, he wasn't the strongest or fastest guy, but he has heart. Passion. The will to win. It reminds him so much of Jimmy... But, unlike his ex friend, Tyler feels this odd... chemistry between them. An attraction that he'd normally ignore, but he just feels drawn to the guy. Just looking at him... Shaking his head, Tyler orders a glass of whiskey as he sits down at the bar. It's a slow night, only a handful of guys playing pool in the back. It's all probably in his head. This weird connection between them. It's just him, he knows it is. Besides, Sami's probably straight. Yeah, he's straight. How could Tyler think differently? Sami Callihan, the New Horror, into men? Yeah, no. That's unlikely. Hell, he's stupid for even thinking there might have been something between them. Maybe they're going to have one of those friendships where everyone thinks they're together but they're far from it. Sami is attractive, and funny, and charming, and nice, and sweet, and... totally off limits. One hundred percent. One thousand percent. So. Yeah. That's logical. Totally logical. A few - like six, seven - glasses of hard whiskey later, and Tyler is ready to sign that contract with his blood. He'd be shouting it, right now, but that would be the dumbest thing he's ever done. And, believe it or not, he actually does have some common sense while intoxicated. Not a lot of it, compared to normal. But, hey, it's more than what some people can say. "Tyler?" He turns around at the sound of his name being said with a familiar country accent. The corners of his lips turn slightly upward. "A.J." A.J. shakes his head. "I haven't seen ya in a month, man. You're neck doin' okay?" "Yeah. I was cleared two days ago." Tyler replies. And - okay. A.J. has always been an attractive guy. Anyone with eyes can see that. But, tonight, he just looks... more? He looks like he just came out of an interview or something, a new button up gracing his muscles. A dark pair of denim jeans encasing his thighs. "That's great. Hasn't been the same without ya." A.J. says, sliding into the seat next to him. "So, you look nice." Tyler blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Thanks.. you look pretty good yourself. But you always look good." Did he just say that out loud? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck this stupid alcohol. Making him all loose and relaxed and shit. Styles smiles, his eyes turning a shade darker with lust. Holy shit, he looks so, so hot. It's not even fair. Fuck him and his stupid attractive face. Fuck all of this shit. The older man chuckles softly, hand resting on Tyler's thigh. His hand is warm, making blood pool in the other's groin. Fuck. "Wanna get out of here?" A.J. asks, his head cocked just slightly. Fuuuuuck. "Y-yeah." Tyler stutters out, grabbing his wallet from his jeans and putting a twenty on the bar. Arousal is making his stomach do flips, and he doesn't even want to think about how long it's been since the last time he's done this with... anybody. It's not that he's embarrassed by it. It's a show of how much dedication he puts into his job. That he puts his heart and soul into wrestling, into being the best that he can be, and there's just no time for anything else. Then again, he did have the last month off due to neck pains. (After his surgery a few years ago, the company hadn't wanted to risk having to undergo another surgery and just gave him the month off) But he couldn't of hooked up then, had to take it easy. Besides he had to make the big decision on whether or not he would deal with the bullshit or go somewhere else. Hooking up is hard for him, okay? He's so damn busy (and picky) it's hard to find time (or the right guy). Besides, his hand is just as good as a stranger. A.J.'s in between a stranger and a friend - acquaintance? No, not quite. Just coworkers - so maybe that's why this is perfect. If the experience is horrible, or this is just a one night stand, then their work relationship won't be effected. They don't have any upcoming story lines - that he knows of - so this'll be fine. And that's why he can't have sex with Sami. Motherfucker this is not the time to think about Sami. A.J.'s fingers brush against his wrist, "Havin' seconds thoughts?" "No. You?" "None." Tyler smiles as he gets in the smaller man's rental. This night's already gone better than he hoped. ~ "Where the hell is Tyler?'" Roman asks as he checks his watch. "It's almost midnight." Dean rolls his eyes. Sometimes his boyfriend is to concerned with people's lives. If they wanna stay out all night, then that's their problem. "Stop worryin' and come to bed. Kid can handle himself." ~ Tyler captures A.J.'s mouth in a passionate kiss the moment the door is closed behind them. His fingers tug at the male's curls, snaking up to feel his soft brown hair. A.J. has a hold of his hips, directing them over to the bed. ~ The Samoan gives him a look. "What if he got kidnapped or something? Paul would eat us alive." "Then he eats us." Dean groans. ~ Pushing up the white shirt, the Iowan native feels his six pack. His tan skin warm against his cold fingers. A.J. shudders, leaning into his touch. ~ "Can you be serious for just one second, Dean?" "Can you stop being a mother hen and come the fuck to sleep?" Sami sighs loudly. "Can you to stop arguin'?" ~ Black moves his lips down to the Phenomenal One's collar bone, kissing his was down his neck. A.J. moans, grinding their clothed cocks together. ~ "Okay. Let's go to sleep then." Reigns caves, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. Ambrose smiles, opening his arms wide so his lover will come to him. ~ "Oh fuck, Tyler. Your so good with your mouth." "Wanna see what else I can do with my mouth?" "Fuck yes." ~ The next morning Tyler awoke to the smell of food being wafted in front of his face. He opened his eyes to find A.J. standing in front of him in a robe, a plate of eggs in his hands, and a smile. "Ordered room service." Definitely the best morning after he's ever had. After showering and changing into his skinny jeans from last night and one of A.J.'s shirts, Tyler walks down the stairs to the floor below them where his room, along with his new "friends", are staying at. Opening the door, he slips in silently, he sends a silent thank you to whoever's listening that his roommate are still asleep (though it's almost two) and rushes to the bathroom to brush his teeth (he's weird with his tooth paste, he can't use any other brand) and change into a new pair of pants. His phone vibrates and he checks the text. A.J.: had fun last night, let's do it again ;) The guy's nice enough to put his number in his ph- Again?! Tyler smiles, A.J. is certainly the best person he's ever had sex with, there's no one close enough to even challenge him for that. TB: definitely A.J.: wanna be my tag partner against Bobby&James tonite? Wow. Okay. He didn't see that coming. But he's pretty sure that either Bobby or Bully Ray were the ones who were spray painting his locker room. TB: love to. can it be a surprise? A.J.: of course! I'll see ya then TB: okay :) This is really fucking weird. Did he just send a smiley face? Why? This all just feels really strange. Pocketing the phone in his newly changed jeans, Tyler steps out of the bathroom. "Well, hell-o sunshine." Dean smirks, getting out of his bed. "Really missed ya last night. Where were you?" Roman sits up, too, rubbing at his eyes. Sami pokes his head around the corner from the kitchen, looking at him in surprise. His hair is still sleep messy. Damn. He looks cute. "Met someone." Dean's eyes widen,and he looks a bit angered. What the fuck did he do now? "What's her name? What'she look like?" "A.J. Short, pretty, brunette. Really nice." Tyler answers, "Now, I have to go do some promotional stuff in a few hours. Do you guys wanna come or not? I think there's still a few seats open if you guys wanna come to the show?" "Of course we do!" Dean answers snottily. "Come on everybody, let's get ready. Wouldn't want Superstar to miss his important shit." "What the fuck's your problem?" "My problem?" Dean points to himself. "We're tryin' to be nice to you-" "You've been a complete dick to me since I first met you!" Tyler points out. He really doesn't know why Dean dislikes him so much. Ever since Paul introduced them, he's been nothing been a fucking asshole. Tyler doesn't understand what he did. Dean rolls his shoulders like he's preparing for a fight. "Why do you wanna leave TNA? Seems like you got a good thing goin' for yourself." Tyler's heart squeezes. He loves being in TNA, it's like his home. He doesn't want to leave. Fuck. He really likes calling himself an Impact wrestler. The blatant disrespect he gets from everyone but a handful of people.. He won't put up with it. He won't. Refuses to. He's worked his ass off to be the World Heavyweight Champion, yet everything he does is called a fluke or he's accused of sucking the guy's dick to get a win. It's complete bullshit, and he isn't going to let his sexual orientation tarnish his reputation. "It's personal." Tyler snarls. Something lights in Dean's eyes. Oh - oh. He did something. "Dean, just go." Roman orders, pushing the brunette aside. Tyler just sits down in the chair by the table, and starts painting his nails black. ~ *later that night* Dean, Roman, and Sami have seats on the right side of the ring, front row. Nothing's really stood out other than the Divas - or, Knockouts, because they're apparently different - because they have a passion the WWE's Divas are currently lacking. He recognizes some people who used to work for the McMahon's or the Indies. Then, out comes these two assholes who apparently have a company called Beer Money, Inc. Dean isn't sure what their name es are, not that he gives a shit. But there's forty-six minutes left in the show, so he has to be part of the main event. Which means so is Tyler. There's also another guy who has a kick ass theme song and a sparkly blue jacket, looking like he's about to burst. The guy with long wet hair and no beard grabs a mic. "Ladies and gentleman. Last night, James Storm and I, along a few of ours friends, were at a bar last night -not that we'd be anywhere else. And we just happened to see our opponent, A.J. Styles, havin' himself a little drink." The crowd 'ohh's collectively. "He wasn't alone... but he wasn't with a female, either." "A.J. We're not one to judge." The man called James Storm says. A.J. gives them an incredulous looks and rolls his eyes. "But it looked like you and your mystery man were getting a little... friendly." "He looked a little muscular. Like he might be a wrestler." The other guy was. Styles nods. "Yeah he is. He'd kick your ass." "Why don't your boyfriend come out here and be your tag partner then?" Storm suggests. "Unless he ain't any good." Styles smirks. "My boyfriend is damn good. Some say he's the best in the world." The guy with the wet hair drops his microphone, talking smack to the brunette. Hey. This A.J. is short, pretty, brunette... They keep talking until the. Music hits- All the things she said, all the things she said. Runnin' through my head, runnin' through my head, runnin' through my head The men collectively known as Beer Money look like they've seen a ghost - their eyes wide, glued to the ramp. Faces paled - and Dean doesn't get it. The crowd is mostly cheering. Tyler comes out, taking slow steps. He's wearing a black and white This is Hell muscle tee, black cargo shorts, knee high socks, and Converse. His black fingertips holding his belt that's slung around his shoulders. His eyes are full of hatred, anger. Small, methodical steps. Each one striking more fear into the hearts of his opponents. At least, that's what it looks like. They look like they're about to shit themselves. Tyler finally gets in the ring, staring down the guy with the wet hair. He takes A.J.'s microphone without looking. He just stares for a couple of second before finally bringing it up to his lips. "I'm baaaack." He drops the mic, puts his belt down, and starts swinging. Notes: The song is All the Things She Said by t.A.T.u. A tribute to one of my favorite divas. Listen to the song while you read that part. It sounds so good. But please IGNORE the beginning music, because the theme starts playing with the words. I feel like this was complete shit. Ugh. Please tell me you thought differently.


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